Page 77 of Addicted
“Good morning, gentlemen,” a very attractive blonde woman greets us, her eyes pausing over me. “And miss. Your boardroom is ready.”
“Thank you, Jessica,” Aeron replies, still holding my hand, which he tucks into the crook of his suit-clad elbow as Jessica leads us down a bright and airy corridor. We stop before a large gray door, no windows to be able to see what we’re walking into, and I can’t help stiffening. “You’ll be fine, Dove. We’re right here,” Aeron murmurs, and I look up to see him gazing down at me, a softness about his face that I’m coming to realize he only wears for me. “You’re safe.”
It’s not me that I’m worried about, I want to scream at him before dragging them all back to the warehouse and hiding under the covers for the rest of our lives.
Rook.
The one reason that I can’t do that. The one reason that I must keep going, even if it’s like knives into my heart. Squaring my shoulders, I give him a nod and face the door again.
“Ready?” Jessica asks, and I nod again. If I keep this up, I’ll be like one of the fucking nodding dogs that old people have in the back of their cars.
“Ready.”
She opens the door for us, Tarl and Knox stepping in first, then Aeron and I follow with Jude behind us.
“Little songbird.” The nasal voice crawls over my skin before my eyes even find him in the room. “I wondered if you’d be singing this morning.”
“Shut the fuck up, Earl,” Knox snarls, taking a step towards the older man who drops his smirk and retreats back into his chair. “You don’t even fucking look at her.”
Earl’s jaw works, and I can see the fight in his eyes, the distaste clear on his screwed-up face. He’s used to being top dog, but when his master is away, he has to obey new masters, whether he likes it or not. He gives a sharp tilt of his head.
“Good. Now that that is settled, shall we begin?” Aeron says, his voice unemotional and full of command as he leads me around to the head of the table where he takes his seat and then fucking drags me down onto his lap.Asshole.
I watch as the others come and sit either side of us; Knox on Aeron’s left, with Jude and then Tarl on the right. A united front. There’s a beat of hesitation, the five other Tailors looking at each other before sitting back down.
“Pastry, Nightingale?” Jude asks, reaching over to where a pile of freshly baked pastries and three steaming pots wait in the middle of the table. He grabs a small plate, piling several pastries onto it, before pouring me a steaming cup of what smells like hot chocolate and even adding some whipped cream and pink and white mini marshmallows.
A grin splits my lips, the thought that he knows not only do I prefer hot chocolate to coffee but that I love marshmallows in it too, making me feel all kinds of warm and fuzzy.
“As you know,” Aeron starts, his hand splaying on my stomach as he pulls me closer to his body. I can’t help it, I sink into him, placing my hand on top of his. “We have been looking for the Dead Soldier headquarters for years with no success.” I see the other Tailors nod, and I notice that they’re all dressed smartly, in suits that really make this feel like a business meeting, not the start of a killing mission. “Well, now we have our in, and this morning we will discuss the best course of action going forward.”
“And we’re going to listen to the Soldier whore? Just like that?” one of the Tailors asks, a young guy whose ears stick out from the side of his head, his closely trimmed, mousy brown hair doing nothing to hide them.
I jump when suddenly a knife is impaled in his shoulder, the handle bobbing as he screams before leaping to his feet. His hand goes to reach for it.
“I wouldn’t do that,” Tarl says, voice casual as fuck, and I twist my head to look at him as he watches the Tailor that presumably he just threw a knife at. “You’ll lose blood quicker if you pull it out.”
“Oh! Let’s have a game!” Jude yells, jumping up out of his seat and fucking skipping over to the Tailor. Coming up behind him, he places his hands on both of the guy’s shoulders and pushes him back into his chair. The guy whimpers at the rough touch. “If Dumbo here doesn’t pass out before the end of the meeting, he can live.”
The man, Dumbo, swallows as he shakes in his chair. “A–and i–if I do p–pass out?”
He looks at Aeron, missing Jude leaning down, right next to his ear on the side where there is a flower of blood blooming around the knife.
“I think even you can guess what happens then, can’t you, Dumbo?” There’s a wicked gleam in Jude’s ocean eyes, and I can see his fingers dig into the man’s shoulders as he grins. It shouldn’t make my thighs clench, but I never claimed that I wasn’t fucked up, and seeing these men defend my honor has my core heating. Aeron chuckles behind me, his other hand sliding up the inside of my jeans-clad thigh.
“Naughty, Dove.”
With a final squeeze that causes Dumbo’s eyes to roll, Jude saunters back to his seat, plopping down and grabbing a pastry before taking a huge bite. Fucking crazy bastard.
“You were saying, brother?” He turns to Aeron, his cheeks flushed and I know that he’s also turned on by the violence, his arousal pressing against his canary yellow chinos.
“Dove?”
My body stiffens, all eyes on me and I have to swallow a couple of times before I can speak.
“Judy’s Laundromat,” I say, looking at Knox. “That’s where Dead Soldiers HQ is.”
“That’s not—” Earl starts, falling silent as my guys twist to look at him. He pales ever so slightly, and to be fucking honest, so would I if they were all staring at me like they need no excuse to rip my throat out.
